the same but different
by mrs.molesley
Summary: During a free afternoon in London Miss Baxter is confronted with memories of her past and present, and the difference between those two.
1. Chapter 1

**London, June 1926**

It was one of those ridiculously hot summer days that were even more unbearable in the city than in the countryside. The Crawley family had decided, that after a few years of absence from the London seasonal life, they would return this year for a few weeks of parties, receptions and balls for young women who were introduced into society. The custom was on the lapse, it seemed – or maybe the Crawley's just weren't as involved in the whole thing as they once had been. With their daughters and even Lady Rose now married and with children, there wasn't much need for them to arrange any of the gatherings.

Instead, Lord and Lady Grantham had decided to enjoy their time in the city mainly as guests to the balls for other people's daughters. They had even decided against bringing the whole staff with them to Grantham House, unlike the previous London seasons. Thomas had stayed at home, as had Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes and the maids who lived in the village. Thus they were only a small party of servants in London – Mr. Bates, two hired maids from the city, as well as Andy, Daisy and herself.

Tonight, Lord and Lady Grantham had planned for dinner in some restaurant and then a party at a friend's house, leaving the servants with a free afternoon without the usual preparations. Phyllis had thought about what she could do with her free time until she remembered that Joseph had told her about the Victoria & Albert museum which apparently was worth a visit if she believed his words. As she knew how keen Daisy was on museums and learning in general, she had asked the younger woman if she liked to accompany her to which the assistant cook had instantly agreed. Andy had joined them, too, as he hadn't wanted to stay behind. Only Mr. Bates had, quite true to his character, preferred the cool and quiet of the downstairs to a walk in the bright, hot sun.

About halfway to the museum it had become rather obvious that Andy's sole reason to come with them was to spend more time around Daisy. In a moment when he thought that Phyllis wasn't looking his hand had cautiously slipped into Daisy's who seemed to enjoy the closeness for once. So, when they had arrived at their destination, Phyllis had suggested for them all to split up and meet again by the entrance two hours later. She suspected the young couple would rather be on their own, probably paying less attention to the art around them than to each other, and she wasn't keen on spoiling the outing for them. She was neither their chaperon nor in any position to judge them. Not when she knew from her own experience what a reckless infatuation could make people do.

Unless the man she had wanted to impress once though, Daisy was a sweet, honest girl without any bad intentions. She wouldn't use Andy with his cute habit of following her around for her own benefit or lead him on for selfish reasons. It was clear to see that the girl liked Andy the way he was, she wouldn't try to change him or ask him to give himself up so that she could love him.

Phyllis was not even halfway through the second exhibition hall when she stopped in her tracks, irritated by her own musings about the past. Why were her thoughts drifting back to that time, anyway? She hadn't spent a minute thinking of it in months, not since she decided on leaving it all behind her for good. Or rather, not since she had finally allowed herself to take her friendship with Joseph Molesley one step further.

Maybe it was London or maybe it was the unusually long amount of time she was away from home – away from the man she loved – that involuntarily brought back memories from another lifetime.

It was silly, really, to think of it all now, when she should have long gotten used to spending time in London whenever her Ladyship had business to attend to in the city. They had stayed overnight or even for a few days more times than she could count, so Phyllis guessed that it was truly more the prospect of four full weeks away from Joseph that made her so sentimental. The absence and long distance were already taking their toll on her – and she was only one and a half week in …

Faintly, she noticed someone bumping into her when a murmured 'sorry' reached her ears. No wonder, as she had been standing still in the middle of the hall for more than 5 minutes already. The way her gaze had drifted into nothingness must have come across as rather strange to any by-passers. It was a busy day at the museum as apparently other people had wanted to escape the hot sun in favor for the cool halls of the old building as well.

It was by no means crowded and yet, Phyllis suddenly felt like she was suffocating. The walls were no relief from the outside warmth anymore but steadily became more and more constricting to her mind and lungs. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, head spinning and making her dizzy. Joseph's face appeared before her, his eyes shining with typical enthusiasm from whenever he talked of things he was passionate about. Like always, the expression reminded her of a small child on Christmas. In her head, he was telling her about all the bits and pieces she should see, not leaving out a single piece of information about the items. Like a teacher, through and through, who never tired of history and art, his forte subjects. The memory was such a vivid one that Phyllis could almost get lost in it completely. That was until the moment became too intense for her to bear; everything about this place reminded her of Joseph, and of the painful fact that he wasn't there with her. Until at last, her only thought was to get out of there as soon as possible.

Once outside, Phyllis audibly sighed and slumped down on the stairs in an altogether unladylike manner. The warm air relaxed her lungs that had felt icy before. Slowly, her level of breath returned to a normal one.

'Get a grip on yourself', she thought to herself 'You're a grown up woman and not some lovesick adolescent'. How ironic that the last time she had been in love, she had indeed felt more like a foolish girl than anything else.

From the beginning on, she had never quite grasped what it was that Peter had seemingly seen in her – he had been tall and handsome and charming enough to turn the heads of most of the younger maids in the house on Ovington Square easily. Phyllis had never considered herself very pretty, but when he had come to sit with her one evening about a week into his work there and told her that she was special, she had believed him.

Of course, she had been nothing more than an opportunity for him, a way to get what he wanted.

Among the servants he hadn't been known to be very reliable or ambitious to climb the latter in service, soon he had built up a reputation that rather unnerved most of the other servants, they were annoyed by his constant talk about making a better life for himself one day. Not Phyllis though, she had hung onto his every word, thoroughly convinced that she would have a place in that better future, too. And for that, she would have done everything … no, had done everything; only to be betrayed and tossed aside in the end, left to despise herself for her foolishness.

In hindsight, she wondered how she could have fallen in love with that man in the first place when he had had none of the qualities she was looking for in a man. Peter had been selfish, self-assured and rather presumptuous towards those he thought beneath him. To say that Phyllis wasn't proud of having been a part of his nasty behavior was an understatement – even after all that time she felt disgusted at how he had treated their fellow workers.

* * *

 _ **flashback**_

 _The room was only dimly lit despite the bright summer day. No sunshine would ever find its way through the small basement windows of the servants' hall of Benton House. Not that Phyllis minded much; the summer in the big city was uncomfortably hot and stiffy and the cool radiating from the stone walls around her offered a comforting alternative._

 _It was early yet, maybe an hour before the upstairs tea would have to be served, when Phyllis was sitting at the small table close by the window, cleaning a set of Mrs. Benton's jewels. Peter was sitting across from her, entertaining her with stories about his previous job at one of the big theatres where he had been checking the tickets at the entrance. He always had a funny thing or two to say about the visitors or about the plays he and the other employees had been allowed to watch in secret from the back of the room. It was always interesting to hear about such a completely different world than hers and it kept her mind off the tedious daily routine tasks._

„ _I wish I could take you once", he smiled over the table, absentmindedly playing with one of the already polished rings, „But here, we barely ever get enough time off to go to the park on the other side of the street, let alone anywhere further."_

 _Phyllis smiled back. They had put that little idea into their heads to be able to properly go out together, even if it was only for one time. Peter had mentioned it first a few weeks ago when he had jokingly told her he wanted to treat her to dinner in a restaurant. Of course, they had both known that such a thing wouldn't be possible but Peter had taken a habit of mentioning it from time to time and Phyllis enjoyed the bit of daydreaming._

 _He was right though, they rarely had time to themselves even inside the house. And then, there was also the old butler who was known to be rather traditional._

„ _They would never give us both an evening off to go to the theatre or such. If nothing else, Mr. Brown would make sure of that. And please, stop fidgeting with that ring, I've just cleaned it", Phyllis said, bending over the table to try and snatch the ring out of her companion's hold. She would be able to touch his hand for a moment and at the same time look innocent enough if someone were to come in. However, Peter managed to pull his hand away and out of reach, grinning mischievously. The pair went silent, him watching her casually and her getting back to work, occasionally sending a shy glance in his direction._

„ _Don't you ever get tempted?" he asked after a while, causing her to look up in surprise._

„ _Tempted? What do you mean?" Phyllis asked, blinking her eyes a few times._

„ _The rings, the pearls, everything … Don't you ever think that she's got so much she wouldn't even notice if something was missing?"_

„ _What? No!" Phyllis replied in a high-raised voice, shocked by the insinuation, „Of course not."_

„ _Relax", he tried to calm her down. It wouldn't do to catch anybody else's attention. Even though they were the only ones in the room one never knew who was just around the corner. „I just meant, one of these is probably worth more than we could ever spend on one evening. Isn't it unfair?"_

„ _It's what we do. We should not forget our place but be grateful for what we got."_

„ _For now. That doesn't mean I want to stay in this house forever", Peter objected. He had slouched quite a bit in his chair, obviously disheartened by the words that had brought him back down to earth._

„ _I know", Phyllis tried to reassure him, not looking up as she was busily scrubbing any strains from the silver earrings in her hand, „We'll find other jobs one day, and then we'll live in our own little place with no one to order us around."_

„ _I wish there was a fast way out of it", he sighed in reply, finally letting go of the sparkly ring. For a moment he looked almost defeated until Phyllis heard someone moving behind her. The intruder was having quite an effect on Peter, for he sat up straight, alert, immediately._

„ _Oh, is it you two dreaming of a better life again?" the cook, Mrs. Morris commented in her typical sarcastic voice, not caring to hide her amusement. She was a slanky woman in her fifties who had been in the Benton household almost as long as Mr. Brown himself and who wasn't very popular among the younger members of staff as she tended to spoil the fun whenever there was some._

„ _At least, we're still having dreams. We all know that you will rot in this house", Peter spat, then got up and marched out of the room._

 _Phyllis looked after him for a moment and then turned towards Mrs. Morris, „I'm sorry, I'm sure he didn't mean it", she tried to apologize on his behalf._

„ _No, I'm sure he does", Mrs. Morris murmured in reply but Phyllis had already left to follow Peter. She caught up with him right by the stairs where he was leaning against the banister, casually smoking a cigarette._

„ _Why did you apologize to that one?", he asked in a dangerously low voice. With his free hand, he grabbed Phyllis's upper arm, pulling her closer towards him. Within minutes he had gone from that carefree, joking person to someone intimidating, unreasonably mean. Phyllis never knew quite what it was that made his mood change so easily from one moment to another; just that whenever it happened, she did best not to disagree with him. But she was also a naturally friendly person with a natural need of an agreeable environment which often conflicted with pleasing Peter._

„ _I was just trying to be friendly. There was no need to be rude."_

„ _She was making fun of me. No one makes fun of me, do you understand that?" He replied, his voice full of disdain for the cook. When Phyllis nodded, her eyes never daring to meet his, he continued, „You don't need her, anyway. You don't need any friends here. You have me, that should be enough, don't you think?"_

 _The meek nod he received in return apparently was enough for Peter to go and resume whatever he had to do. Only when the sound of his footsteps had faded, did Phyllis dare to touch the spot where he had grabbed her arm. It was hurting like hell, most likely to become a bruise soon. She was glad that she was alone in the dark, deserted hallway._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, second chapter now. I like to thank you guys again who commented on the first one, love you for that! 3 I know standing alone it might be a bit of an unfinished thing so I blame it on this fact that many of you who stumbled across it didn't leave a review. I admit, it made me a bit insecure about whether I should continue this story or not. I honestly don't want to complain but comparing the amount of clicks this one got in a short time to the reviews ... well, it made me wonder if most of you found it crappy. But as I've written it all already I don't think there is any harm in posting the whole thing.**

This is a bit of a different style to what I normally do, with the flashbacks and trying to give that Peter Coyle an actual persnoality instead of just having his memory looming around like in canon. So I hope I managed at least somehow decently.

After this, there will be one more (shorter) chapter, which will give some kind of conclusion to the previous and this one. Or I hope it'll all make sense, then.

But now, I don't want to keep you from the actual reading. Please excuse any silly babbling from my part.

* * *

 **London, June 1926**

Thinking of it now, she felt even more stupid about her actions back then. The memories of situations like this were all just part of a bigger picture that showed how manipulative Peter had been from the beginning on. She hadn't noticed it back then, too much had she rejoiced in those happier moments when he had charmed her easily with sweet words and a smile that made her forget in an instant about the other – vicious – side of his.

Everything about him was different from Joseph. Not only the way Peter had treated her whenever he had been in a bad mood, even in the most basic things the two men couldn't have been more unlike each other. Where Peter had been unfriendly and rejecting, Joseph was always kind and helpful. Joseph would never turn anyone down or speak ill of those who didn't deserve his bad opinion. He would never have wanted a better life badly enough to resort to illegal methods so easily – or at all, for that matter. Even when Joseph had thought himself stuck in service for the rest of his life, he hadn't complained about it, instead he had accepted his fate even when it wasn't what he really wanted. And when finally the offer for the teaching position had come forward, he had carefully considered his options, taking into regard that his job in service had also been an opportunity that he was thankful for.

It was early afternoon still and probably some time until Daisy and Andy would reappear from the depths of the museum, so Phyllis decided to go on a little walk, not too far from the museum's neighborhood. Wandering around aimlessly had often helped her to clear her head – which was exactly what she needed now.

Soon, she found herself walking down the main road until her feet almost automatically carried her down the smaller sideways, away from the buzzing or cars, buses and people. The one thing that she had always hated most about London was the constant noise that never seemed to stop. Even in the early mornings and late nights there was always some commotion going on, not only in the streets but even more so in the house. Despite the relatively small number of servants, compared to what she was greeted with when she first started in Downton, there was always something going on that caused her to lay awake in bed when she should have been asleep.

Sometimes, Peter and she used those moments when someone else was in the butler's focus to steal themselves away to the dark servants' hall or – if they felt adventurous enough - to the garden on the other side of the street. Ovington Garden was one of those small, locked up parks that were reserved for the streets inhabitants, but those barely visited it during the late hours of the evening. Thus, it had soon become some kind of secret refuge for the couple. It had been so exciting and daring to run off together in the late evenings.

The last person she could imagine doing something so foolhardy with was Joseph Molesley. Phyllis softly smiled to herself upon the thought of him even suggesting stealing themselves away together in the darkness. He would probably stumble over his own words, taking so much time to actually get to his point that by then, someone would have already gotten notice of the plans of indecent behaviour. It was an endearing thought that assured her once more in how much she actually adored his clumsy innocence.

He might not be the most interesting man in the world on the first glance; compared to Peter and his ideas he could even come across as boring. However, if knowing how a relationship with a man like Peter could end had taught her anything, then it was that it wasn't what she was looking for in the long run. Not that she had dared to imagine another relationship at all after that disastrous experience – until Joseph came into her life and had involuntarily not only given her hope again but also the certainty that his own qualities attracted her far more than any promise of a foolish dream-come-true could ever do.

* * *

 _ **flashback**_

 _The upstairs dinner had found an early end soon after Mr. Benton had taken the first bite of his dessert. Apparently, the new kitchen maid had mixed up the ingredients the wrong way – a mistake that she was now being scolded for by both Mrs. Morris and Mr. Brown. Many of the other servants were eagerly waiting for the result of the conversation, pitying the girl for the telling-off she was currently getting. She was rather popular among them and no one really wished for her to leave again so soon._

 _Not Peter Coyle and Phyllis Baxter, though. The couple was sitting in their usual spots at the side table, both rather amused by the mistake. Peter who had been present in the dining room when the mishap had been discovered was animatedly telling his companion about the family's looks and Mr. Brown's upset expression. Phyllis could vividly imagine the situation, how miserable the butler who was always so proper must have felt when he, too, had realized that the dinner hadn't lived up to his standards. He always behaved as if it was a personal offence to him whenever something didn't go exactly his way, a fact Peter had more than a few times rolled his eyes over. It was no secret that he didn't show the butler the respect that was expected from a footman, but with his charms and good looks he had managed to stay in the family's good books for the time being. It tended to make Mr. Brown furious to know that Peter got away with his cheekiness._

 _Neither of the two servants minded the unnerved looks from the other occupants of the didn't need them, as Peter repeatedly said. As soon as their colleagues' attention had moved back to silently waiting for the outcome of the evening, Peter motioned with his head for Phyllis to follow him._

 _Once outside the house, they hurried to the other side of the square where they couldn't be seen_ _from Benton House. Somehow, Peter had managed to get hold of a spare key to the little park in the middle of the square which had become their secret spot._

 _Now that they were alone and surrounded by almost darkness, with the only source of light coming from the streetlights around the outside of the garden, Peter easily slipped his hand into hers, sending a small shiver through Phyllis. Despite the late summer, the evening air was chilly enough for both of them to wish they had taken a blanket with them._

 _'At least he has his jacket' Phyllis noted to herself. The thought must have crossed his mind, too, she realized when he took it off and carefully draped it around her slim frame. Phyllis instantly felt the warmth emanating from the item of clothes and at the same time almost froze at the touch of Peter's hands on her shoulders. Even after he had touched her in far more personal spots with far less material between them, an intimate gesture like this one could affect her just as much._

* * *

What a strange coincidence it was that all of Peter's touches had always left her feeling cold from the inside. Even the most heated moments she could remember, she now associated with shivers and iciness. It had been nothing like the small, innocent little touches and looks from Joseph that warmed her up almost instantly and that she had come to long for so much lately.

* * *

 _Soon, they sat down on a bench in a hidden corner of the garden that would keep anyone who might have been around from spotting them. Almost immediately, Phyllis felt Peter's lips crushing onto hers with his usual fierce. Whenever they got those rare moments alone they tried to make use of every second. They couldn't get too carried away there, though. Despite the late hour and the darkness they were still outside. So, when Phyllis felt Peter's hand buried in her hair which had fallen loose and the other one on her waist, she took all her willpower to push him away a bit and break the kiss._

„ _Sorry", she said, biting her lower lip, „but we have to be careful. What if someone sees us?"_

 _Peter appeared to be amused, given the slight twinkle in his eyes and the light tone when he answered, „Who should see us? It's the middle of the night, it's dark and there's no one here except the two of us. Don't you trust me?"_

„ _Of course, I trust you", she said without hesitation, then added, a bit more cautious, „I just … I don't feel comfortable always hiding somewhere, always sneaking around. It doesn't feel right anymore, I guess."_

 _Peter looked at her for a moment with an unreadable expression. It was as if he was measuring her up in some way. He took his time to respond but when he did, he was so understanding that it didn't occur to her in the slightest that he could deceive her._

„ _I know what you mean. It doesn't feel right to me, either. That's why I took you here tonight, I think it's about time that we make our dream true. Listen, I'm handing in my notice first thing tomorrow and then we'll leave and live together, far away from the busy city. In the countryside, like you always dreamed of."_

 _This was exciting and confusing at once. Phyllis didn't know what to think, so overwhelmed did she feel. Sensing how slightly bewildered she was, Peter softly put his hand on her upper arm, stroking it as a calming gesture. The hint of soreness she felt when he touched a particularly sensitive spot was only a faint reminder of the nasty bruise she had been spotting a few weeks before. His doing, she remembered, not quite believing herself that the man before her, who was now so caring, had been capable of hurting her like that._

 _Quickly, she discarded the thought – it had occupied her mind often enough lately, too often, she had to acknowledge, when in reality she was sure that he was nothing like that. How he sat before her now, that was his true character; it made her happier than she had ever been that he wanted her to go away with him. They would make a life together, that was if they could find a place to live and a way to maintain it. It was apparently the one thing he had forgotten to think about: they would have no work, no income, if they left their current jobs._

„ _But, you haven't got another job, have you? And what about me? I can't just leave like that."_

„ _Why is this always about work? We can find work anywhere. The plan I have is better", he said visibly exasperated, which confused her even more. What would they live from if not at least one of them had a work?_

„ _A plan?", she asked, urging him to elaborate on that._

„ _Listen, like I said, I'm going to hand in my notice in the morning and leave. I'll go and buy two train tickets to the south, I have a cousin in the countryside where we can stay for a while." There, he paused, waiting for Phyllis's approval to go on. „Then, in the evening, you get Mrs. Benton ready for dinner and after she has gone down, you go back into her room, take the jewels out of the box, mess up the room so it'll look like someone's broken in, then go down and report what you found. They'll probably call the police, so when everybody will be busy, you'll meet me outside to get the stolen things out of the house. No one will suspect you but it's better to be safe than sorry. Now, just wait a few days before you hand in your resignation as well. Tell them you don't feel safe there anymore or something of the sort. I'm sure they will understand."_

 _With every word that had left his mouth, Phyllis had gone paler and her eyes had grown big in shock of what he had suggested. She felt paralyzed by the words, unable to remove her hand from his grip, no matter how much she wanted to. When Peter had brought up the subject of the jewelry a few weeks prior, she had taken it as a joke, not something he was seriously considering – or rather, asking her to do._

„ _You want me to – what? Steal the jewels and lie to them? Lie to the police, probably? I -I can't do that! I'm s-sorry," Phyllis stammered, still equally confused and shocked about that plan._

„ _So, you don't trust me", he said. It was more of a statement than a question. „Don't you love me?"_

„ _You know I love you, but this is too much. I can't do something like that. This is wrong and we both know it", she tried to explain, hoping that she could convince him somehow that this idea was bound to fail._

 _He looked angry for a split second, then hurt and disappointed when he said, „Alright, I get it, this – us – doesn't mean as much to you as it does to me. All I want is to be with you, live with you. Marry you. Do you really think we could stay on here if we got married? Because I know we couldn't. If we have to leave anyway, why shouldn't we have something that gets us started?"_

 _Phyllis only managed to listen to half of what Peter said. Had she heard him right? „Mar- … marry me?"_

* * *

 **Thanks for making it down here. If you liked it (or didn't) please leave a comment if you have a moment.**

 **xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, last one for this piece. No flashback here, at least not in a form similar to the first two chapters. Means no Peter Coyle appearance anymore ... I (like Phyllis) have moved past that part of her life.**

 **I hope you enjoy(ed) this. You know, a review is always appreciated.**

* * *

 **London, June 1926**

This had been it. His words had done the trick and he had known it – worse, planned it. Everything had led up to that point, she could see that now, years later. From the persuasive smile he had seemed to reserve for her alone to the way he slowly separated her from everyone else, he had mastered the art of having her believe that he would do anything for her and at the same time make her feel completely dependent on him. And she had willingly become that person, for she wanted nothing more than to be deserving of his love. To this day, Phyllis felt embarrassed that she had fallen for it so easily; fallen for him easily enough to believe he honestly wanted to marry her.

At this point, Phyllis shook her head, wanting to get rid of the unpleasant memory. She didn't want to remember her own naivety, her foolish acceptance of the proposal, the following night of the staged burglary or that afternoon a few days later when the police had picked her up. She wished she could just erase it all from her mind, the shameful past that made her feel so disgusted of herself.

Even though she had accepted it as a part of her past and come to live with it without letting it define her anymore there was still something about that episode of her life that she couldn't let go of. Not even her decision to ignore Peter's renewed attempts to get to her had helped that cause. In the end, it all came down to the fact that she had allowed herself to be changed for worse by a man. He had indeed made her nasty, as she had once phrased it. Because of that she was now having a hard time accepting if she deserved the love of a truly honest and respectable man.

Sometimes, it felt like no matter how far she put her past behind her, it would always find a way to catch up with her. Just as that thought crossed her mind, Phyllis chose to have a look around. She didn't want to go too far as she still had to go back to the museum to meet Andy and Daisy plus walk back to Grantham House together. The street to the right looked vaguely familiar but what really stopped her breath for a second was the street sign to her left.

 _Ovington_ _Square_

Ironically enough, her daydreaming had brought her to the one place she wanted to leave behind more than anything in her life. It was all still there, she noticed, taking a closer look at the place. The garden was in full bloom, still as neat as she remembered it with the white benches and pebbled pathways.

She had never known that Ovington Square actually was so close to the Victoria & Albert museum. Then again, she never had been interested in museums while she had been living there. Phyllis supposed it was the last place Peter would have wanted to take her, not that she had shown any desire whatsoever in art or history back then. It was all thanks to Joseph that she had come to appreciate and enjoy these simpler things.

Watching the place from across the street, Phyllis felt strangely drawn to it. On the one side it felt forbidden to walk over there, but curiosity got the better of her and caused her to move closer. Even through the trees she could see Benton House on the other side, a car had stopped in front of the house and soon, someone came out of the house to welcome the visitor. Was it Mr. Brown, the old butler? In a swift movement, Phyllis hid behind one of the trees, quickly covering her mouth with one hand to hide the small, gasping sound that escaped her lips. The last thing she wanted was to be spotted observing the house.

Her gaze fell on one of the oak trees in the park – or what was left of it – when she felt save to come out of her hiding place after a few minutes. The small bench was still there, an indicator that there was no mistaking – this was her and Peter's place. But the tree that had been hiding them from the outside world was cut down, for whatever reason. She felt a tinge of sadness rising in her chest, that „their" tree had been removed, without further ado, as if there was no story behind its existence.

After a moment however, Phyllis noticed the small, new branches that had grown out of the stem.

* * *

 **Downton village, July 1926**

„... They've cut it down, but it didn't die. It grew new life instead."

„With a chance of a new story, maybe", Joseph added with a wistful smile. He had listened intently to Phyllis' narratives on her time in London, the museum visits, the famous party guests she and the other servants had secretly watched from the door as they came or left, and last but not least, to the story about her unintentional walk down memory lane.

He had missed her badly those last weeks and had been more than happy to see her on his doorstep three days before the expected return date with that big smile on her face he loved so much. He supposed he himself had mirrored that expression when he had opened his door, completely unexpectant. Not that he minded in any way that he possibly had been a bit of a silly sight with the goofy grin on his face; Phyllis knew she had that effect on him and for some reason she didn't seem to mind. Instead, she always kept on insisting that she found, what he believed to be social awkwardness, rather endearing.

As if those past few weeks hadn't kept them apart, they had quickly returned to the comfortable atmosphere they had grown used to lately. Almost like a routine they were now drinking tea and nibbling biscuits next to each other. Automatically, Joseph's hand had slipped into Phyllis' when they had sat down on the sofa, thus giving her the nice, warm feeling of being home again.

„You know what I think?" he asked after taking another sip of the hot tea.

„What do you think?" Phyllis replied, expectant of his reply.

„That tree is really yours. Not yours _and_ _his_ , but yours. Your story. You see, even when it was cut down, it didn't die but grew stronger instead. It grew new branches - different now, but no less beautiful. It didn't lose its story of the past because that's still there, somewhere beneath the new bloom. But it's the new greens that are nourished now, so that they can grow. The same but different, just like you."

Phyllis looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and astonishment. If she was honest with herself, she was overwhelmed and at a loss for words, for what he had just told her was the most incredible thing anyone had ever said to her. Leave it to Joseph Molesley to detect something more meaningful in an otherwise perfectly ordinary story. When she had begun to tell him about that particular afternoon as just another part of those past weeks in London, never would she have expected anything like his reaction. If it had been anyone else telling her those things, she would have suspected that they only wanted to flatter her with words.

However, he looked at her so genuine, leaving no room to question his honesty, that Phyllis highly doubted it would even cross his mind to say something he didn't really mean only to please her. She knew him and his pure heart well enough by now to know for certain that his words were nothing short of an undiluted reflection of his mind. He wasn't like Peter, she had to secretly remind herself, not for the first time. It was difficult to accept his truthfulness as what it was after everything she had experienced the last time she had allowed love to cloud her judgment.

If Joseph so much as suspected the troubles she was having when it came to trust, he was doing the best to convince her of his honesty, though. Not with fancy words, like her previous lover had done, but with his actions and the slow and careful pace he was treating their relationship with. It was like an unspoken agreement between them that he would never ask anything of her that he wasn't completely sure she would be alright with. Phyllis for her part was thankful for that patience; it was by no means something she could expect from a man. Joseph was so grounded in every aspect that he - just like their relationship - couldn't be a bigger contrast to Peter. It was for this reason - Phyllis had come to realize - that what they shared was so special. He wouldn't try to charm her with sweet words and silly dreams and pretending to be someone different. He had charmed her without even trying, just by being himself - a patient and understanding man. The way he behaved towards her - it felt almost like he loved her. Like he respected her.

„Joseph", she gasped after a moment of collecting herself. It was hard not to cry about his beautiful, beautiful words and the way he looked at her with nothing but love written all over his face. „Oh, what have I done to deserve you?"

A little frown crept onto Joseph's face at those words, followed by a shake of his head. He hated it when Phyllis talked like that, belittling herself in front of him. In his mind, they were equals – not measured by their past experiences but by the way they cared for and helped each other, and the fact that they both knew without the other their chances on finding true happiness were rather slim.

„You support me, Phyllis, you put up with my sometimes awkward self, my unreasonable expectations for myself and my silly enthusiasm. You love me – which is so much more than I could ever wish for. I hope you do trust me when I say that you're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

„I trust you", Phyllis replied, no hesitation whatsoever in her voice. This time when the words left her mouth, she didn't say them to please. This time she really meant them.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! xx**


End file.
